Time Out
by Kailey Hamilton
Summary: "Up to that point, everything had been unexpected - meeting Weasley in Romania, the sudden mutual interest, bumping into him in London… and yet, when Weasley's lips crashed onto his, Draco wasn't surprised." Charlie/Draco. Oneshot.


_For the Hunger Games Fanfic Style III competition at the HPFC forums. Prompts used: word, dialogue, pairing, emotion, and weapon._

* * *

 **Time Out**

This was Draco's first visit abroad as deputy Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He was the one to shake Madam Dobrescu's hand. He was the recipient of warm, kind words about the Hebridean Blacks they were transferring to the reserve as soon as both parties were ready.

That was the purpose of his visit, after all, and it was one he was willing to enjoy. Romania was breathtakingly beautiful. They were strolling through the edge of a forest, the mountains rising high and closing them in. His host was taking him to the clearing where trees were torn down to make room for the required expansion. A few axes had been enchanted to work, leaving a silver trail wherever they moved and sprinkling red sparks whenever they collided with the trees, an enchantment of which she seemed to be proud of.

However, this wasn't what caught Draco's eye. There was a man overseeing these preparations, a redhead who couldn't be younger than Draco, but seemed to emanate a sort of vitality Draco himself had never possessed. He was too far away to make up his features, but his body was powerful, almost youthful.

The man smiled and raised a hand to wave at them. Madame Dobrescu waved back.

"He's the heart behind this project," she said. "One of yours. Charlie Weasley."

Draco's heart skipped a beat. A Weasley. This far away from the Isles. This man was a Weasley. And Madam Dobrescu was saying that Weasley was the best flier in the reserve, in charge of the arrival of the new dragons, and set to join them for dinner that evening. Everything slipped into Draco's brain with a slight delay, as he recovered from his spinning head.

 _Damn those Weasleys._

Only when Weasley's grin widened, still fixed on the visitor, did Draco realize he'd been staring.

* * *

Sitting on the dinner table, Draco could finally make up Weasley's features. He wished he hadn't tried, but it was too late to pretend he didn't think him a handsome man. The only thing he could do was ignore him for the rest of the evening. They were a party of seven, so it should have been easy to let them all speak Romanian while he ate quietly. But Weasley sat next to him, all too eager to speak to him.

"Mr. Malfoy," Weasley said quietly, not to be heard over everyone else's loud demeanor. "I wanted to personally thank you for your involvement in this project. I have been waiting my entire life to work with Hebridean Blacks."

The only way out Draco could deal with this unwanted conversation was talking about his favorite subject in the world.

"My son has been following the news since it became known the McFusty clan had more dragons they could handle. He wouldn't have forgiven me if I hadn't done something about it."

Weasley's mouth twitched in an involuntary smile.

"What does he want to do after Hogwarts?"

"Scorpius has a wide range of interests and subjects he excels at, and he's only thirteen. It's too early to say what he'll choose in the end."

"You must be proud."

In the back of Draco's mind, there was the nagging feeling that he shouldn't show interest. But Weasley had overpowered it far too easily, and Weasley's wistful tone piqued his curiosity even more.

"Don't you have kids?"

Weasley shook his head.

"I'm not married, either," he said, and there was no shame to his words. "I'm everyone's favorite uncle, and I dare say they would like it here. Perhaps your kid would, too."

Draco's heart sped up. That was an interesting turn, and Weasley had said it with his blue eyes fixed on him, sparkling as if he, a man nearing fifty, was still searching for beauty undiscovered.

"I think he might," Draco answered slowly.

"If you would like-"

A burst of laughter interrupted them, and then, Weasley's attention was demanded by two men chattering quickly in Romanian, forcing him to interject just as loudly. His last line dropped and vanished into thin air, never to be recovered.

And Draco was left wishing for more.

* * *

Draco should have been careful of what he wished for.

 _If I would like…_

Was he going to invite him and his son over? What else was he going to say, if not that? Was he allowed a dream, a fantasy, one that a man much younger than himself wouldn't have hesitated to indulge in?

No. Weasley probably thought him too settled in life for these wishes to even begin forming. And even if he didn't, he was probably being polite without any other intention. Draco wished to see this man again to close this odd chapter in his life, but it would be months, maybe even years, until the dragons could finally be transferred...

He saw him again after three weeks.

They'd bumped into each other in Diagon Alley. Draco was too stunned to exchange pleasantries, only learned that Charlie was visiting his family and planning to stay for a few days.

And then, Draco did the unthinkable.

* * *

"So this is Malfoy Manor," Weasley said, stepping out of the chimney to examine his surroundings.

Draco had done it. He'd invited Charlie Weasley over. Instead of inviting him to Leaky Cauldron for a beer, or something more _acceptable_ , he'd opened the doors of his home to him. And Weasley had been quick to accept, not without surprise, but more importantly, not without a wide grin.

"This is not the Manor," Draco corrected, not without a twinge of offense. His home was far more quaint, more tasteful. "I moved out after my wife passed away."

He'd expected some discomfort, or relief, after this revelation, but Charlie's face showed only sympathy.

"My mum told me what happened. I'm sorry."

The pain from recalling the fire that had taken Astoria's life took second stage this time around. It would never really leave Draco, but right then, he was far more preoccupied with the fact that Charlie Weasley had shown active interest about his life. After all, it had been six years since Astoria was no longer in his life. Six years of mourning, and of fear of failing his son. Six years in which he hadn't had a companion in his journey. He'd been far too in love with Astoria to ever believe their story would meet such a brusque ending

And then, three weeks ago, he'd woken up from this dreadful nightmare into another dimension. One in which it was finally acceptable to move on, and maybe it had been for a long time. And he saw him everywhere. That red hair and welcoming grin. He saw the mountains, the forest, the sparks flying - real and imaginary. And there he was, this extraordinary man. He saw Charlie Weasley, so happy and open and so carelessly alive, too careless for someone his age and position. Too unburdened.

"It's been long enough," he admitted softly. "Even Scorpius seems to feel that way."

"It's hard for a child to lose his mother."

"It was, but now that he's most of the year at Hogwarts, I think he fears his dad will spend the rest of his days alone."

"It sounds like you have raised him well."

That was the best compliment anyone had ever paid him, and he couldn't remember the last time he was so genuinely touched.

"Thank you," he whispered, the words foreign in his lips.

A silence sat between them. Weasley seemed to find it appropriate, but Draco's senses were too heightened to let it last too long.

"How come you're not married?" He asked. Once upon a lifetime, he would've been judgmental. Now he was just baffled, and genuinely curious.

"I'm a career man." If Weasley was annoyed, he didn't show it. "I can't deny I often feel lonely, but I wouldn't change a thing."

"You've certainly made it far."

"True." That ever-present smile shone brighter. "I don't think I'd make a good husband or father, but I'm good at taking care of dragons."

He said the last part looking straight into Draco's eyes. In his stupor, Draco hadn't even been polite enough to offer Weasley to take a seat. But now Weasley was stepping toward him tentatively, almost breaching his personal space. The meaning behind his words was a question Draco's senses were too acute to miss. There were no pretenses, no tiptoeing around, no playful flirting.

And Draco didn't back down.

"So you keep saying." He took a step toward the other man. "But I have seen none of it."

Up to that point, everything had been unexpected - meeting Weasley in Romania, the sudden mutual interest, bumping into him in London… and yet, when Weasley's lips crashed onto his, Draco wasn't surprised. They were too old to be coy, but not so old that butterflies in their stomach would be unwelcome. Weasley was enveloping him in a whirlwind of fire and pressing his lips against Draco's and the urgency of the moment crashed onto him like a wave.

He clutched the collar of Weasley's shirt, deepening the kiss, and inhaled sharply when Weasley's hands pressed their bodies together. But then, just as Draco was about to lose himself to this impossible moment, reality started dripping in.

Draco pulled away, too conscious of his flushed face. This was a flame that couldn't burn forever, and maybe it had already burnt for too long.

"I'm not so sure about this," he confessed.

"Just trust me," Weasley said, his voice soft. "Can you do that?"

After a pause, Draco was the one to close the distance between them, heart pounding and lips all too eager. He couldn't un-kiss Charlie Weasley. Nor did he want to. So he might as well keep going.

* * *

"Weasley-"

"I believe you can call me Charlie."

"Charlie," he corrected. "When we first met, you wanted to ask me something."

It wasn't what he should've said after what had just happened, but he'd been obsessing over it for way too long. Better get it out of his system now that he had the chance, now that they were in each other's arms and time felt eternal.

"I wanted to ask you many things," Charlie said, grinning. "You'll have to be more specific."

"All of them."

"Don't get greedy." Draco didn't answer. Charlie sighed. "I wish I'd asked you about your wife, at least."

Draco grinned. There was only one reason why Charlie could want to bring up such a difficult topic in a way that didn't stab at his conscience.

"You were jealous."

"I never said that."

"You might as well have."

"I can't be jealous over something that was never mine."

The subtle difference of belonging to someone and belonging _with_ someone wasn't lost on him, and right then, Draco was exactly where he belonged. But none of those fuzzy feelings answered his real question.

"You were going to ask me something at dinner, if you remember..."

"Of course I do. I was going to invite you and your family over, but I think you know that. I spent many nights feeling grateful I never said anything, because… well…"

"You thought me happily married." Draco's smirk returned, but then he felt it soften as happier thoughts invaded him. "I'd love to go someday."

"I hope you're not going to have doubts this time."

Charlie was poking fun at him, but Draco couldn't share his amusement. Maybe, in time, he'd learn to be more carefree. If they ever got the time.

"You misunderstand me." He couldn't quite vocalize his fears, so he settled for the more immediate version. "I work tomorrow, and your mother... or whoever is hosting you on this visit, is probably waiting up."

Charlie raised an eyebrow.

"Are you kicking me out?"

"Don't be stupid." He squeezed the other man tight, and almost hated himself for it. "You know what I mean."

Charlie kissed his forehead in return. The silence that followed confirmed their agreement. This may end before it truly began. Seeing each other sparingly could be worse than not meeting at all. Maybe, just maybe, they should let go.

But as long as they were in each other's arms, they could pretend they had all the time in the world.


End file.
